


Not like the others

by MyFandomCausesHanaji



Series: Soulmates AUs oneshots [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, I didn't try too hard you see, M/M, Otabek is not a skater, Otabek might be OOC, Romance, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Victor is a jerk, Yura swears, also might be ooc, but still a DJ
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-15 14:41:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15415221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyFandomCausesHanaji/pseuds/MyFandomCausesHanaji
Summary: Otabek’s mother didn’t approve of his soulmate already before actually meeting them. In fact, she didn’t approve of his soulmate from the moment the english words “Suck my dick, old man” appeared on Otabek’s left arm when he was five and a half years old, that indicated that his soulmate was exactly this amount of time younger than Otabek and a total douche. Otabek though didn’t know the word douche back then, neither did he know what the words in the phrase written on his skin meant, but he could sense his mother’s disappointment and by her unwillingness to translate him the phrase concluded, that the sentence probably didn’t mean him any good.`````````````````````````````````Soulmates AU prompt:The first words you’ll hear your soulmate say are written on your body.





	Not like the others

**Author's Note:**

> AU where Otabek is not a skater, but still a DJ. And I played with their ages a bit, just cause I can, plus I like a slightly bigger age difference. You can ignore it if you want, just imagine them as you wish.  
> Also, Victor came out as kind of a jerk here, but I don’t really like him tbh, so, sorry not sorry.  
> And Otabek is probably OOC, but we had like what? 2 phrases out of him in the anime? 3? I bow in respect to those, who manage to make a solid character out of him in their fanfics, but I’m just not that good, unfortunately.
> 
> I love reading Otayuri, but for some reason don't like writing them. This might be a bit shitty, but I dunno, it was sitting in my docs for ages, almost finished, and I just had to finish it already, and it's like million degrees here and my brain is not functioning too well, so yeah, enjoy xD
> 
> Unbetaed, cause I don't wanna bother my beta with this ship, since she is not familiar with it.

Otabek’s mother didn’t approve of his soulmate already before actually meeting them. In fact, she didn’t approve of his soulmate from the moment the english words  _ “Suck my dick, old man”  _ appeared on Otabek’s left arm when he was five and a half years old, that indicated that his soulmate was exactly this amount of time younger than Otabek and a total douche. Otabek though didn’t know the word  _ douche  _ back then, neither did he know what the words in the phrase written on his skin meant, but he could sense his mother’s disappointment and by her unwillingness to translate him the phrase concluded, that the sentence probably didn’t mean him any good. 

When he grew older and acquired some knowledge of english along with the handful of obscenities and was finally able to read the phrase, he instantly decided that these words should not necessarily be said to him, as the first thing people hear their soulmates say could be often said to someone else. It made it a little bit better for Otabek, though probably didn’t make his soulmate any less of an asshole, and his mother’s disapprovement hadn’t lessened any bit. 

The only good thing about all that was that flashing your soulmate’s mark for everyone to see before you meet them was considered almost as socially inappropriate as flashing your genitales, so Otabek had a legitimate reason for wearing a handband covering the offensive words, that spared him possible awkward conversations where he would be trying to defend his soulmate’s poor choice of words. 

The meaning of which he now was perfectly able to understand, that he regretted more than once, trying in his mind to come up with some sort of a scenario, where such words might be said, that wouldn’t make his soulmate look like an arrogant brat who had no brain-mouth filter. He accepted, that this person was probably a male some time ago - he highly doubted, that a girl would use such words, though he discovered that his mother apparently found the possibility of her son being gay even more distasteful than him being matched with some girl who would talk like that. 

Otabek never argued, slightly confused why the gender of his soulmate was even that important to her in the first place, though more than anything he wanted his mother to accept this person, no matter what gender they were, despite having questioned himself on several occasions, what kind of deity would come up with such a weird joke as to match him, with his calm, kind personality and polite behavior, with someone who was probably a complete opposite of him. He knew he was overthinking that, but when you stuck for years with nothing but just one phrase from your soulmate waiting for the moment to meet them, you can’t help it but try to guess what that person would be like.

But then he was twenty and his first album made good sales on itunes, and instead of playing in one club in Almaty once a week, he started being invited to the clubs all over the world and even recorded a couple of singles with different bands. He was on planes more than he was at home, and all his free time was spent coming up with new compositions, and by the age of twenty three he hardly even spared more than a few minutes in the last two years musing about his soulmate.

He was in Tokyo this time, sitting in the departure lounge waiting for when the boarding on his plane to Moscow would start. He didn’t have much time to sleep last night, and tried to keep himself among the living at least until he could nap during the flight with a big carton cup of coffee and thundering music in his headphones. The airport coffee was that ― the airport coffee. Watery and rather disgusting, the liquid was still serving its purpose keeping Otabek’s eyes open if only for the sake of not spilling the hot drink on himself. Music was good, energetic and loud ― the perfect mix for not letting his mind fall into slumber. 

He was lazily observing other passengers, but there was not much to look at. There were a lot of japanese and several europeans, some with small kids, and he prayed silently that his seat would be as far from them as possible ― he  _ really  _ needed his sleep. A new group of passengers made its way from the customs, scattering around the lounge, searching for empty chairs. Three of them sat down across from Otabek, and his eyes slowly drifted to this group. 

A quiet japanese man in glasses was listening to something his companion was saying ― the tall european looking guy with silver hair and flashy smile. Otabek thought his face was slightly familiar but he couldn’t pinpoint to where and when he might have seen him. The silver haired man was gesticulating energetically, from time to time grabbing his companion’s hand or wrapping his own around the other’s shoulders. He was drawing attention by his expressiveness, and Otabek almost didn’t notice the third one of their group until the silver haired guy nearly kicked the phone out of his hands with a wide gesture. 

The guy jerked up from his seat, screaming something and pointing his finger in the face of his offender, who was smiling widely and looking up at him with a dismissive expression in his eyes. The screams drew attention of other passengers, and Otabek looked at the guy more closely. Ripped-off black jeans, short leather jacket with leopard print matching the sneakers with similar decoration. He was standing with his back to Otabek and wore a hood on his head, so Otabek couldn’t see his face, but by his style, his posture and lithe build he concluded that he was probably a teenager, maybe even the son of the silver-haired man, that would explain his behavior. 

The announcement of the boarding being started interrupted the argument. The teenager turned abruptly, and Otabek wasn’t fast enough to look to the side, when a pair of angry green eyes fixed at his, and the guy spitted something angrily at him, before walking away. Otabek was glad he couldn’t read lips, plus he wasn’t sure the guy was talking the language he knew, but from the looks of it it was probably something along the lines of  _ fuck you. _

He sighed and stood up, grabbing his backpack from the floor. A hand gently squeezed his shoulder and he looked to the side where the two companions of the recent guy were standing looking at him. He pulled headphones from his ears and raised his brow in question. 

“Let me apologise for our Yurio,” the tall man with silver hair said to him in english, with a smile that seemed too rehearsed to be genuine. “The boy has no manners.”

Otabek nodded, more bothered that he was being dragged into a communication of a sort,  than by the fact that some spoiled brat ran his mouth at him. Fortunately any other answer apparently was not expected from him, and the pair walked to the shorter line with priority passes, leaving Otabek among less lucky passengers. He hung his backpack on one shoulder, throwing his empty coffee cup in a bin nearby, noticing that there was no trace of the said Yurio ― what a weird name ― who probably was already on the plane. 

A few minutes later Otabek finally stepped on one of the two isles of the huge Airbus, eager to find his seat and close his eyes to reality for as long as he could manage during the ten-hour flight. 

He saw them before he heard them, the japanese man with his silver-haired companion already seated in the left row, and the Yurio guy, standing across from them, a knee propped on one of the seats in the right row. There were three seats between them and two streams of passengers, and yet the argument from before was apparently going on. Yurio was waving his hands, and a low voice, though loud, was barely heard above the rambling of other passengers and the noise of baggage being put in the compartments above. Their japanese companion was feeling definitely uncomfortable with all the fuss they were making, nervously looking around at the passengers, and saying something to the silver-haired man beside him. 

Otabek looked at his boarding pass and then at the number on the seats he was slowly passing. It was getting clearer that his seat was dangerously close to Yurio’s, and this was not the company he would be happy to spend ten hours in. 

A flight attendant managed to make her way to the center of the argument and was now talking with the silver-haired man. He smiled and answered something, more of Yurio’s voice reached Otabek’s ears, still not close enough to grasp separate words, the flight attendant squeezed her way to the loud boy, telling him something, that made him drop in his seat and fold his arms on his chest, scowling at his earnest. The silver-haired man switched his attention to his japanese companion, two passengers before Otabek slipped to their seats, and he crossed the remaining distance to where his seat was supposed to be, that unfortunately was the one beside Yurio. 

“Excuse me,” he said grimly, drawing the guy’s attention.

Yurio jerked his head up, and Otabek was surprised to see his eyes reddened. He wasn’t crying but had come close to it. For the first time Otabek thought that he might have interpreted the situation wrong. The boy opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a mocking  _ ‘Hey, Yurio, another one’  _ from the row across. Otabek looked up at the man with the silver hair who was now looking at Yurio with a smile that wasn’t reaching his eyes.  The japanese man grabbed his arm, saying softly, “Victor, stop it”, and Otabek sympathised the guy, who was stuck with such companions who apparently were constantly at each other's throats. 

Yurio hissed in a breath, and Otabek barely dodged the arm that extended before him towards the row across, fingers clenched in a fist with only middle finger sticking. The boy leaned at the armseat, trying to reach his hand as further as possible, as if he wanted to press his middle finger right under the nose of the other man, and with more feeling that Otabek could’ve ever imagine was possible to put in such a simple phrase, said,

“Suck my dick, old man!”

Otabek froze, that was probably not very evident from outside as he wasn’t really restless before, but for a short moment he thought that his whole inner systems just stopped working and took a break to have a look at the guy before him. Truly, he had an opportunity to do this before not to mention the upcoming whole ten hours during which he would be able to satisfy his curiosity about the guy’s looks without standing in the way of the passengers who were already losing their patience.

Someone tapped him at the shoulder, and he carefully squeezed his way past Yurio, who was now standing on his knees on his seat, glaring daggers at Victor. Otabek dropped in his seat near the window, staring stupidly at the back of Yurio’s hood-covered head. 

“I am not into kids, Yurio,” Victor answered calmly but loud enough to reach through the flow of the passengers. “Besides I already have my Yuuri.”

Otabek heard the confused murmuring of other passengers and even noticed a couple of  disapproving glanced, thrown Yurio’s way, and was surprised to feel the urge to defend the boy. Apparently discovering his soulmate ―  _ his soulmate! Fucking hell… ―   _ made something with his brain, making him sympathetic towards the guy he didn’t even know yet. 

Yurio rose to his feet, trying to see above the heads, and screamed angrily, “I am almost eighteen, you fucking asshole!” 

This pulled Otabek from the stasis he had been for these last few seconds. Right, with five and a half years difference that sounded correct, though Yurio really looked slightly younger than his age. 

Otabek noticed another flight attendant coming their way with an expression on his face that didn’t hold any good promises, reached his hand towards the boy, grabbing his arm, and yanked him down, almost dropping Yurio back to his seat.

“Oi, what the fuck?!” Yurio turned his fury on him, two green eyes ―  _ it was the second time Otabek saw them, how come he hadn’t noticed how beautiful they were the first time? ―  _ stared intently, apparently trying to burn a hole in Otabek’s face.

“We haven’t taken off yet, they can throw you off of the plane, if you go on like this. Wanna spend more time in the airport?” Otabek told him quietly, leaning closer. The boy smelled like apples. How ridiculous was it?

Yurio puffed out a breath like an angry cat, and Otabek actually had to suppress an inappropriate laugh at the view. The boy didn’t say anything else though, jerking his hand from Otabek’s grip back, and folding both arms on his chest. His leg twitched slightly, but didn’t move otherwise, and Otabek wondered if his soulmate had a habit of sitting with his feet propped on the seat under him. Such a kid…

Otabek sighed and leaned back in his seat. The angry flight attendant threw a couple of disapproving glances towards both Yurio and Victor, but both of them were silent at the moment, so he went away.

The plane proceeded to the take off, and Otabek was just looking blankly in front of him, trying to come in terms that he had just found his soulmate. He wasn’t really succeeding in this, his sleep deprived brain refused to spend the energy on anything that was not crucial, and all the attempts to prove it, that finding the soulmate was very much crucial too, were gloriously failing. Otabek’s thoughts were running in loops he couldn’t pull them out of, not providing him with any new information, and he didn’t notice when he dozed off. 

He woke up from the feeling of something tickling his nose and opened his eyes to the curtain of blond hair obscuring half of his vision. Yurio’s elbows were propped on the armseat between them and he was now looking at the view outside the window. Otabek glanced to the part of his face, that was visible, took in a tensed skin in the corner of the eye with long eyelashes, and a furrowed brow. The boy was nervously nibbling at his lower lip that already was red and chapped. Was he scared of flights? Or just upset about the recent argument with one of his companions?

“Hey,” Otabek said quietly, not to startle the boy, but Yurio jerked away hurriedly, throwing him one short glance, and leaned back in his seat, raising his legs and propping his feet under him, hiding behind his knees and long hair, that were reaching his shoulders. He pulled his phone and headphones from somewhere and was now furiously scrolling through his itunes music. 

Otabek glanced at the curled up posture, the feet in black socks with printed tigers on them, the bony knees picking out from the tears in jeans, the thin long fingers, untangling the headphones wire. The boy was like a street cat, that never felt safe enough, always tense and ready to flee or fight, though Otabek had a feeling Yurio would always prefer the second option.

He wanted to talk to him, in fact, he  _ needed _ to talk to him ― he had just several hours of this flight to somehow earn the boy’s trust. He could, of course, just take of the band that was covering his soulmate mark, and shove it under Yurio’s nose, but somehow this option didn’t agree with him. 

The sudden thought hit him, and he thought back, trying to remember the first thing  _ he _ said to Yurio, only to discover not without horror, that it was a simple  _ Excuse me. _ And he thought  _ he _ was unlucky with the phrase he got to wear on his arm all these years. At least it was rather unique and recognisable, when  _ Excuse me _ … For the first time ever he regretted being raised that polite.  _ Excuse me…  _ What a joke. Worse would probably be only  _ Hi _ , and yet he was sure that there were a bunch of unfortunate people living with  _ Hi _ as their soulmate marks. 

He carefully glanced at the boy beside him, who was now already listening to something, tapping his fingers on the armseat in tack to the music. The picture on the screen of his phone seemed familiar, and Otabek leaned forward automatically trying to see the name of the artist. That turned out to be his, and Otabek froze in surprise, staring at his destined soulmate who was nothing like he imagined him to be and who was now positively enjoying the track made by Otabek himself. That was some destiny at work, he had to admit that.

Yurio noticed that he was being observed and turned to Otabek, jerking the headphones from his ears with apparent irritation in his eyes.

“Take the picture, will fucking last longer.” His voice was low and didn’t really fit that much to his looks, that was almost delicate, despite the ever present angry frown between the blond eyebrows, and Otabek thought that probably just a couple of years back he would’ve mistaken him for a girl. 

“Em, sorry,” Otabek answered, and pointed at the phone in the boy’s hands. “I was just surprised to see you were listening to my track.”

“Huh?”

Otabek shifted in his seat suddenly feeling sheepish under the stare of these green eyes, and reached to his pocket for his ID.

“That’s me, I made this track,” he said again, showing Yurio the name on his ID and pointing at the phone screen again. “Otabek Altin, nice to meet you.” He was very glad at that moment, that he didn’t take a stage name, like his manager advised him to.

He didn’t know how Yurio would react, but what he did made Otabek think that it was definitely the best day of his life.

Yurio’s eyes widened and brightened, the frown disappeared, like it hadn’t been there, he almost jumped in his seat, turning to Otabek with his whole body, grabbed Otabek’s ID, staring at his name there, and his lips tilted in a bright smile, that transformed his entire face, making it almost glow. And Otabek just stopped breathing at the moment, taking in the view before him, thinking that it was the most beautiful person he had ever seen in his life.

“Fucking really?!” Yurio said with a laugh. “Holy fuck, you’re kazakh, right? Govorish’ po-russky*?” He asked Otabek with a hopeful smile.

“Yes,” Otabek answered in russian, and Yurio smiled wider.

“I fucking love your music! I was even thinking of using one for my free program, but Lilia got stubborn, stupid hag, I am already sick of skating to classics.” Yurio returned Otabek his ID, and was now talking enthusiastically, his body relaxed and there was nothing left of that angry mistrustful cat in him. “I bet if I tell her you personally let me use it, she would stop resisting. Will you let me? Let me, I’ll make an awesome program, you won’t regret it!”

“You are a skater?” Otabek asked ― it was the only thing he understood from Yurio’s rant.

“Yeah, Yuri Plisetsky, you haven’t heard?”

Otabek shook his head. “No, sorry. Not really into sports.” Yuri blinked, but Otabek couldn’t understand what flicked through his eyes for a moment ― was he disappointed, Otabek didn’t know him?  “Yuri, you said? I heard that other man calling you Yurio.”

The boy winced and tucked one blond strand behind his ear. “The old man came up with this name, cause his stupid husband’s name is Yuuri. But it’s Yu-u-uri, you know, with long  _ u!  _ It’s not the same. Fucking asshole.”

“Yuri it is then,” Otabek answered with a small smile. “Is he your dad?” he asked, though Victor definitely didn’t look old enough to be a father of an almost eighteen-year-old teenager, but it seemed like a good way to learn who the man was.

“Fuck no, I’d kill myself.” Yuri looked back to his phone and started searching for something. “He was a skater too. And now I just fucking stuck with the both of them… So you haven’t seen me skate, you gotta watch it, I have a couple of videos here. If you like it, you are letting me skate to one of your tracks.” It didn’t even sound close to a question, and Otabek chuckled quietly. Apparently Yuri was confident in his skating, though Otabek would let him use his music anyway. 

Yuri handed him his phone with a video set on a pause on it’s screen, and Otabek put the headphones on, tapping the play button. 

“It’s from about a year ago, don’t have more recent videos on my phone,” Yurio commented in his ear.

Otabek recognised the music, something classical, though he couldn’t remember the name on the spot. At the first sounds of it he mused about such a strange choice of the style for a boy, who seemed nothing like it. His whole posture, voice, vibes coming from him were screaming rock, electric. Something wild, untamed like the boy himself. But perhaps there was not that much freedom for going with their own style in the skating world. Yuri mentioned someone named Lilia, she was probably his coach or choreographer. Sure the slow classic melody now coming from Otabek’s headphones was her choice.

Yuri in the video was wearing one of those flashy bodysuits Otabek saw when he accidentally clicked on a sport channel and there was some skating competition going on. The suit, its light colors and sparkles, reflecting light from the spotlights, were making Yuri look entirely different. It didn’t not fit him, it didn’t make him any less beautiful, but despite his graceful movements on the ice, it made him look like he was trapped in all of that. Otabek wondered, if the boy would look more free on the dancefloor, with his hair free instead of braided around his head, and wearing ripped-off jeans, like the ones that were on him now, and simple top, moving along with the beat of Otabek’s music.

This fantasy was appealing, and Otabek thought, that with them being soulmates, it didn’t have to stay just a fantasy.

The video ended, and Otabek handed the phone back to Yuri and tugged his headphones down. Yuri was smiling ― brightly and rather smugly ― and Otabek found himself admiring the beautiful boy. He wondered, whether Yuri realised how just a smile was changing his face, making him shine. Green eyes were looking at Otabek with attention and confidence, and Otabek thought that meeting this boy now was worth all the unpleasant moments connected to the rude words of his soulmark he had to live through.

“So, was I good?” Yuri asked with the tone that didn’t even imply that he might be anything but perfect. “And this is from two years back, I am much better now. And I still can do the Biellmann!”

Otabek had no idea what’s this Biellmann was, but nodded and smiled.

“You were beautiful.”  _ ‘Are’  _ he wanted to say.

Yuri blushed slightly and looked to the side, as if trying to hid behind his long hair. “So, will you let me use your track for my program?” 

“Sure.”

“Awesome!” Yuri put his phone back in the jacket pocket and turned to Otabek again. The blush was already gone, but the smile still lingered. 

Otabek was rather tired and sleepy, he had to actually make effort to keep his eyes open, even despite the huge discovery that he still had not fully processed, but he wanted to keep talking to Yuri. It was strange, Otabek had never really felt such a pull toward anyone before. Was it soulmarks at work here or was it just Yuri? After all there was a reason why they were matched like that.

“You look like shit.” The sudden comment made Otabek frown, but Yuri just laughed. “Shittily tired I mean, your eyes look like you haven’t slept for days, Otabek. That’s what I mean, not that  _ you  _ look like shit, you look fucking gorgeous! I mean...” Yuri  stumbled, eyes jumping to the side in clear embarrassment, and he sank in his seat, pulling his knees to his chest. 

Adorable, Otabek thought.

“Had long few days and didn’t really sleep last night, yes,” he answered and rubbed his tired eyes. 

“You should catch some sleep then, this flight is long as fuck,” Yuri mumbled in his knees, still hiding behind his hair. 

Otabek took another moment to just look at him, hummed something that he hoped sounded like an agreement, leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

~

Next time Otabek woke up the plane was relatively dark and quiet, except for small lights above the isles and the sound of engines. It was night behind the board windows and most passengers were asleep. 

He looked to the side. Yuri was relaxed in his seat, eyes closed, earphones in his ears and a slender finger tapping a rhythm on the arm-seat between them. He noticed Otabek shifting, or felt eyes on him, and he turned to Otabek, pulling the earphones out.

“Oh, hey. Good morning.” Otabek tilted a brow skeptically, and Yuri laughed breathlessly. “Well, good night would be more accurate, but if I tell you this, you’d have to go back to sleep, so, good morning, Otabek.”

“Morning, Yuri,” Otabek answered with a smile, and Yuri hid behind his hair again, probably hiding a blush. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“What were you arguing about with that Victor guy?”

Yuri turned to Otabek, looking at him hesitantly, as if contemplating whether he should answer or not. He sighed and brushed his hair away from his face in a slightly frustrated gesture. The hair fell back down instantly, and Yuri frowned.    
  
“It’s nothing. Some bullshit. He is just a jerk, that’s it.”   
  
“You seemed upset after this.”

Yuri puffed out a breath and started picking at the edge of his seat. He was now looking unseeingly before him, deep frown between his eyebrows, and hard expression in his eyes that did nothing to hide the hurt in the depths of it.

“It’s just he thinks he is so special because he found his soulmate so easily,” Yuri answered quietly. “He is so full of himself ‘cause his soulmark is not not some shit like “hello” or stuff like that. Asshole.”

_ ‘Excuse me _ ’ Otabek remembered saying to Yuri. Otabek was so used to living with his own quite unique soulmark, that he had never thought what lives of people with marks much simpler than his might be like.

“He was teasing you because you have a common soulmark?” It was not really a question one may ask someone they just met, but Yuri wasn’t just someone, even though the boy didn’t know that yet. It was the first time Otabek ever asked anyone about their soulmark, and despite being sure that Yuri was his soulmate ― what a chance that Otabek would get in a situation where he would hear someone saying exact same words? ― he couldn’t help but be anxiously curious about Yuri’s own mark.

Yuri didn’t answer for a short moment, threw a glance at Otabek, as if hesitating, and then pulled one leg up, planting it on the seat. Without saying a word, he rolled his jeans up slightly and tugged the sock down to bare his ankle. There, above the bone, were two small black words written in a curly font: _ Excuse me _ . 

Otabek registered that his own hand moved only when he was already wrapping his fingers carefully around the thin ankle and his thumb brushed across the words. His heart made a flip and he looked up to meet Yuri’s eyes. 

“It’s beautiful.”

Green eyes widened for a moment and then squinted back, looking at Otabek with suspicion. Yuri frowned even deeper and shoved Otabek’s hand away. 

“The fuck you understand!” He hissed between his teeth, clearly angry but still trying to stay quite. “Beautiful... Do you know how many people have said this to me as their first words?!”   
  
_ ‘Another one’ _ Otabek remembered Victor saying to Yuri.

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely, feeling that he was the one at fault, that Yuri had been teased because of his soulmark. “It must’ve been hard for you.”  _ I will compensate it for you, if you let me. I will do everything to make you forget that your mark is not special enough. _

“Screw you!” Yuri hissed angrily, grabbing the armrest between their seats, his knuckles pale with his tight grip. Otabek looked at his hand, and pushed down the urge to cover it with his own, brush his fingers along it. “He is sorry! Fuck it. I don’t fucking need no soulmate! And screw Victor. He can suck my dick!”

Despite the seriousness of the subject, Otabek couldn’t resist to smile with the corner of his lips. Yuri might be almost eighteen, but now he looked younger, again reminding Otabek of a stray cat, and he thought that he started to like this comparison. And he wanted to protect. It was just a nagging feeling at the back of his mind, when he looked at Yuri, who was anything but helpless, and Otabek would be the first to fight anyone who would say that Yuri was weak. But the urge to scoop the boy in his arms, to reassure him with the words and touches that he wouldn’t have to feel that he must fight for everything now, when he was not alone, was almost unbearable. 

“About that...”

“What?!”

“Give me a second.”

Otabek turned from Yuri to have more space to pull down the left sleeve of his jacket. Yuri was silently seething behind him and Otabek wondered if it was actually a rather bad moment to reveal his soulmark, but bad or not, it was just too fitting to miss this opportunity. He managed to pull his left arm out of the sleeve and turned back to Yuri, who was watching him with a growing suspicion in his eyes. 

“The fuck are you doing?” 

“You showed me you mark, I want to show you mine.”

“I don’t fucking need your mark, I showed you mine because it’s nothing special, what—“ 

The protest died on his lips when Otabek tugged his handband and Yuri noticed the words written on his forearm. 

“Fuck...”

Otabek was not looking at his arm, he’d seen his mark endless amount of times. He was watching Yuri’s face, as green eyes widened, lips falling apart just a tiny bit, and the boy sucked in a shaky breath. He was looking at Otabek’s mark without blinking and what seemed like breathing for a few other moments, and Otabek realized with a surprise that his heart was beating madly in his chest. 

“What...”

Yuri finally blinked and licked his lips in a nervous gesture and Otabek couldn’t help but follow the movement of the pink tongue. Yuri looked up and his eyes were reddish with unshed tears, and Otabek’s heart fell.

“You...” Yuri said, closed his eyes for a moment, breathed in and then grabbed the collar of Otabek’s shirt and shook him violently. “You asshole!” He was still whispering but his whisper was so full of emotions it might as well have been a scream. His eyes were shining with a mix of disbelief, relief and anger, and Otabek thought he might faint of how fast his heart was beating. 

Yuri punched him in the chest lightly, shook him one more time, mouthed something that Otabek couldn’t quite distinguish and then dropped his head forward, pressing his forehead to Otabek’s collarbone. 

His hands were still clutching Otabek’s shirt, fingers so tense they seemed paler than the the rest of his visible skin. The blond hair on the top of his head was all Otabek could see and he hesitantly put his hands on Yuri’s shoulders when he felt drops of tears wetting his shirt where Yuri’s face was pressed to it. 

Yuri was trembling slightly under Otabek’s hands and Otabek shifted as close as their not so comfortable positions in the narrow plane seats allowed him. He moved his hand farther, enveloping the crying boy in a half hug, and waves after waves of emotions he had never felt before rushed over him. 

The trembling stopped eventually and the hands let go of his shirt only to slide higher, fingers curling around his neck, brushing the short hairs of Otabek’s undercut on the back of his head. 

Otabek shivered at the touch, and Yuri raised his head and Otabek could only have a short glimpse on those green eyes, when they closed and hot salty lips pressed to his own. Yuri clang to Otabek digging short nails in the back of his neck like he would kill him with his own bare hands if Otabek didn’t unfreeze and respond  _ right now. _

Otabek responded. Yuri tasted like tears, apples and something, that Otabek couldn't come up with a name for, but knew, he had been craving for his whole life. 

**~**

Otabek was standing in the endless line to the customs and pleading for it go faster, because Yuri was pressing himself to his side, warm and solid, making Otabek’s heart pound in his chest, and his head reel at the smell of apples and something, Otabek wanted to taste on his tongue. His hand was in Otabek’s jeans back pocket, Otabek was holding him across his waist in return, thumb brushing back and forth, all along while Yuri had been whispering filth in Otabek’s ear for several minutes straight already and hadn’t repeated himself even once. 

Otabek was truly impressed and undoubtedly happy, but the longer this went on, the harder it was to resist to pull Yuri in some dark corner and do all the things Yuri was telling him if only to see if Yuri was up to the challenge or only the talk. 

Yuri’s companions, who took their time getting off the plane, reached them when Yuri sneaked his other hand under Otabek’s shirt and scratched. Otabek caught the hand, swallowed hard, and with the great effort untangled Yuri from himself. 

“Easy, kitten.” He was not even sure where it came from, but Yuri seemed to raise the instincts and emotions in him, that Otabek didn’t know he was capable of in the first place. 

Yuri breathed out from his parted lips looking at Otabek with heated gaze, and Otabek had to close his eyes and make several controlled breaths. Yuri ceased the opportunity and pressed his face in the crook of Otabek’s neck, inhaling deeply. 

“Oh, Yurio, you found yourself a friend? Isn’t he this another one excuse-me guy?” Victor’s voice sounded from the side, accompanied by a tired  _ “Victor!” _ of his partner.

Otabek opened his eyes, ready to witness a similar scene he’d seen when he boarded the plane, but he was met by a pair of green eyes when Yuri looked up, and the boy was not moving anywhere and not even making an attempt  to look at Victor. 

His eyes were fixed on Otabek’s, there was no frown between his eyebrows and his lips were curled in a smile. Otabek felt Yuri’s warm hand in his, and Yuri slid his fingers between Otabek’s.  

“No, Victor, this one is not just another one,” he said dismissively and pressed his face to Otabek’s neck again. Otabek wrapped his arms around slender shoulders protectively, wondering how it was even possible to feel so much love to someone who he met just few hours ago. 

He looked up after a moment, ready for whatever confrontation Victor would possibly try to force on him, and was slightly taken aback by an easy smile on the face of the older man, that this time was definitely reaching his eyes. 

“That must be one hell of a soulmark,” Victor said suddenly to Otabek, still smiling.

Yuuri slapped his arm lightly.  “I am sorry, I’m sure he doesn’t mean it like th—“

“If you hurt him I will make your life hell,” Victor finished, ignoring his partner, and in his eyes Otabek could see that he really meant it.   
  
“Fucking hypocrite,” Otabek heard Yuri mumble against his neck. Otabek pressed a kiss in his blond hair and felt a relaxed sign on his skin.

“I don’t really know you, but from what I’ve heard,” Otabek started, looking Victor in the eye. “I can say the same to you.”

This made Yuri huff against Otabek’s neck, and he mumbled sarcastically  _ “My hero.” _

Victor’s smile widened, he took a step closer and outstretched his arm.

“That’s a deal.”

Otabek shook his hand, thinking that it will definitely take him some time to figure this man out, but now he had something more important to think about.

Yuri pressed a short kiss at his collarbone, looked up and rose on his tiptoes, bringing their faces closer. A stray hair tickled Otabek’s nose and he crinkled lightly, trying not to sneeze. Yuri laughed, green eyes shining.

He smelled like apples, and something Otabek wanted to taste on his lips and the tip of his tongue for the rest of his life. 

He leaned in and pressed their lips together.

**Author's Note:**

> * _Govorish’ po-russky? = Do you speak russian?_
> 
> I don't wanna think how many typos and mistakes are there tbh, I'll mb check it later but not sure, whatever
> 
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